"Think sure I got the sucker and I hope he was Kaiser Bill himself! I kept watchin' for him, Herb, for about half an hour and he never showed up. Now, who'll get out there to bury him, I wonder?"
"Let us hope somebody does tonight," Herb said.
"Hope that? Cracky, me lad, not so fast! If they got that far they'd forget the dead one and try to make one of us live ones a dead one. But, say, if some of us can sneak down there and lay for them when they do come out for him, we could take 'em prisoners easy. How 'bout it?"
"Don't seem like fair and square fighting," said Herb.
"But they do these things!" Roy argued.
"Two wrongs don't make a right."
"They will make a capture, though, sure as you're a foot high! Try it and let me in on it."
"But it will be your time sleeping. Well, maybe we can plan it. I'll talk with the lieutenant."
That night it came on to rain, harder than it had yet come down since the squad had been in France. Everything was soggy and soaked; the atmosphere seemed like a big sponge surcharged with endless dampness. Slickers were in demand and all guns and revolvers for those going forth were well cleaned and oiled.
Out of the pit and through the intense darkness Corporal Whitcomb led a party of six others, one-half of his own men and two Regulars of the platoon, all prepared for dealing a surprise. But, along with the enemy, they, too, experienced the unexpected, which in this case might better be called simply a streak of luck.